|
|
|
|
by Beth Teitell
Tuesday, April 9, 2002
With all my faults - I'm secretly rooting for global warming, I'm not exactly
sure what ``post-modernism'' is, I enjoy the E! channel - I've never worried that
I was Part of the Problem.
Until last week, when a survey was published showing Americans are rude and getting ruder. ``Jerks,'' I thought as I read about aggressive drivers and Internet spammers. Then I got to the part of the study blasting people who talk on their cell phones in public, and I recalled with shame a little altercation I'd had a few days earlier.
Here's how it went down: I was talking to my dad on my cell while running errands. I went into a liquor store, selected a bottle of Manischewitz, and put it on the counter. Then, smiling and making eye contact, I reached out to hand the employee my credit card.
There was anger in his eyes.
``I'll help you when you're off the phone,'' he said.
I heard him, but I gave him one of those passive-aggressive ``excuse me's'' which had the unfortunate effect of making my dad repeat what he'd just said, thereby making me say, ``No, not you, Dad, I was talking to the guy in the store,'' in essence forcing me to conduct two conversations at once, and doubtless compounding my offense in the salesman's eyes.
I don't want you to think I'm one of those people who'd talk on the phone in a theater or a restaurant, but shouldn't the rules be different in a liquor store?
And besides, turnaround's fair play. After years of waiting for the salesperson to end his or her call while we waited for service, the phone is finally on the other ear. Sorry, bud, but the technology's on our side now.
The salesman repeated himself: ``I said, I'll help you when you're off the phone.''
So I did what any self-respecting jerk would do, and stormed out without making my purchase. So there I was out on the sidewalk, empty-handed (except for my phone), all pleased with myself, until I remembered I had to leave for a seder in less than an hour, and I had no Manischewitz.
What to do? I considered lurking outside until a sympathetic-looking person happened by, and asking him or her to make my purchase.
``WWMSD?'' I asked myself. What Would Maxwell Smart Do?
I remembered the ``Get Smart'' episode in which Max called a huge Kaos goon an ``ape'' and then gave the guy a few karate chops. When the agent didn't flinch under the barrage, Max put his arm around him and said, ``I hope I wasn't out of line with that ape crack.''
Tight as time was, I couldn't bring myself to go back in, and it was too late for the Cone of Silence. I remembered another liquor store, so, still on the phone, I hustled over and made my purchase.
But the incident was still bothering me over the weekend, so on Saturday I returned to the scene of the crime. My nemesis was behind the counter.
``I don't know if you remember me,'' I began.
He did.
``Is that no-service-till-you're-off-the-phone thing a policy?'' I asked.
``I just think it's rude,'' he said.
I asked if he felt there was an unwritten social contract that requires people to notice each other during sales transactions. Was I tearing at the social fabric by being on the phone while he rang up my bottle?
Yes, I was.
Meanwhile, I couldn't help but notice that he kept looking to his left during our conversation. There was a TV perched on some boxes, and the Red Sox game was on. He was watching while we spoke, a little fact I couldn't help but point out.
``I'm just glancing,'' he said.
I had a good mind to . . .to. . .to pull out my phone and make a call.